Thanksgiving Adventure
by Jackie99
Summary: Because of a school mishap, Jim is forced into the Thanksgiving spirit. Will chaos ensue with the Dopplers as the main audience? Please R&R.
1. Problems with Science

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the TP characters…Disney does!!

Notes: This takes place on **Earth**!

Jim glared sullenly at his unknown substance, which bubbled slightly in a small lab pipette. It was a boring Thursday, and class couldn't go more slowly. The teen was really looking forwards to Thanksgiving, which was on Saturday. His other lab partner brought him back to earth.

"So---what's the temperature?" Mark Gomen asked, chewing on a pencil. Jim hastily looked at the Bunsen burner.

"Uh…eighty-two degrees," he replied.

"Well, I guess we're gone," the classmate sighed. Unlike Jim, he was really into chemistry.

"Mrs. Dasfada? We're done!" Jim called. He pointed without enthusiasm at the bluish concoction. His teacher walked over to the large lab table and squinted through her glasses.

"Well done," the woman remarked. Jim strained his neck and tried to see what grade she had given them. He felt amazed when he saw Mrs. Dasfada jot down an "A" for them. Smiling, the teacher walked away to observe the other students. The teen knew that his mom, Sarah Hawkins, would be thrilled that he had gotten a great score. His grades in chemistry weren't that great…

"So---down the sink you go," Mark said to the mixture. He was about to pour the contents out of the glass tube when Jim grabbed his friend's arm.

"What if the stuff clogs the sink? Pour it down one of those holes," the teen said. Sure enough, several holes encircled the gaping mouth of the sink.

"We should probably ask the teacher…" Mark answered, doubtfully. 

"Look. You know how moms always tell you not to wash wet flour down the sink because it'll clog the drain?"

Mark Gomen nodded. "Huh. Makes sense," he said. Without hesitation, he carefully emptied the pipette, making sure that the blue liquid didn't splash onto the black table surface. Making a gurgling sound, the remainder of their lab vanished.

"Too bad we finished so soon. That formula was awesome," Mark sighed.

"Get out of here. Chemistry sucks," Jim muttered. His friend shrugged and sat down on a lab stool.

"So---any Thanksgiving plans?" Mark asked.

"It'll be just with my mom; you know…" Jim said, trying to sound like it was the worst thing in the world.

"Wow. That sucks. My relatives are coming over and we'll have a HUGE turkey," Mark cried enthusiastically. He spread out his arms to emphasize the largeness of his future bird. Jim grinned. He immediately stiffened, though, when he saw the expression on his classmate's face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Ah, crap!" Mark hissed, crouching. He was staring intently at something on the beige linoleum floor. Jim followed Mark's gaze and his mouth dropped open. Their liquid was gushing onto the floor from behind their lab table's closed cabinet. Jim opened up the cabinet and saw that the blue substance hadn't actually gone anywhere. It had just flowed down the hole and splashed down into the cabinet.

"Um, I don't think that hole led to the drain," Jim said finally. Already the substance was eating through the cheap wood lining in the cabinet.

"It looks like the venom from the movie _Alien_," Mark cried.

"Great, thanks for the help," Jim shot back. Visions of aliens sprouting out form their formula were dancing in his head.

"Sorry. Jeez. Maybe if we sopped it up with a paper towel---"

Jim looked up and saw that Mrs. Dasfada was standing near the paper towel dispenser.

"Here," the teen hissed, practically tearing off his black uniform sweater.

"Jim are you sur---"

"Yes!" he cried. Greedily, the blue stuff ate up the wool sweater. The two boys watched with fascination. Soon, though, the liquid began its gorging on the wood. Students were watching curiously, but Jim barely noticed.

"If this doesn't work, I'll scream," Jim whispered. He pulled off his navy blue school shirt. Girls started to giggle.

"Rats! It ate through the cabinet!" Mark hollered. He stared with dismay at Jim, who stood shirtless.

"James Hawkins! What in God's name are you doing?" yelled the teacher. The classroom got quiet.

"Uh, I'm, you know, too hot to wear the uniform," he tried. Kids started to laugh as Jim struck a pose a famous modeler would have envied.

"Here comes an F for me," Mark murmured. Mrs. Dasfada had her suspicions. With a quick gaze she saw what had happened.

"Ah! Oh, my!" she cried. "You've just received an F for this assignment!" she gasped. Jim sank miserably onto his lab stool.

"But Mrs. Dasfafa---"

"If that mixture causes more damage, I'll fail you for the quarter!" she finished, dramatically crossing out their grade with a red felt-tipped pen. Her clipboard quivered as she held it with shaken hands. Jim and Mark exchanged glances.

The next period, while Jim was concentrating on geometry, the electricity went off. Students groaned as the room began to get colder. _Nah. This has nothing to do with the lab thing_, Jim reassured himself. He glanced down miserably at "his" shirt, which was kindly donated by a teacher. It read, "St. Andrew's High School Staff," in bold white lettering. The teen felt like a dweeb. Without warning, the principal barged in.

"Students. Seeing how there's something wrong with the electricity, school will be cancelled for today," he announced gravely. The kids cheered. The man left, slamming the door.

"Why me?" Jim cried, slamming his head on his desk. His forehead struck the desk with such an impact that the cheap wood split down the middle. With a loud CRACK, the ruined desk crumpled to the floor.

The teen pasted a grin on his face. "Oops."

_"Dear Sarah Hawkins--- I the principal of St. Andrew's High School, would like to inform you that your son, James Pleiades Hawkins, is responsible for allowing highly toxic acid to flow down a non-existent pipe. Because of this, our electricity is virtually nonexistent, as the acid simply ate through the main power lines. Also, it has been reported that James has destroyed a desk. The faculty and I have come to a decision---James must make up his chemistry grade over the extended Thanksgiving break (by doing any form of chemistry related experiments) or he will be expelled. With kind regards, Earnest R. Gratis---principal."_

Sarah looked up at her son, who was laying down on his bed. She waved the note dramatically in the air.

"Well. This should be interesting," she remarked grimly. Jim groaned and flung a pillow over his head.

"I bet you are good at chemistry---you just need practice."

"Ma---the closest I've ever come to chemistry is when Delbert and I got locked in the elevator at the science museum for two hours," the teen said, sitting up.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Jim. Not chemistry in _that_ way. Cooking is a form of chemistry, too. So, how about you cook some meals for Thanksgiving? I've just invited the Dopplers over."

Jim's heart froze. "WHAT?!" he yelped.

Wow---long chapter. I'm really sorry about pulling out of "The Great Vacation," but my cousins were over practically _every _day, I had just gotten a puppy…it went on and on. I promise that I will write this fanfic until it's FINISHED!! I know it's really early for a Thanksgiving story, but hopefully it'll stretch on. So---PLEASE review and give suggestions. If you hated it…uh….then, just be polite. Lol.


	2. Jim's Unsettling Day

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the TP characters…Disney does!!

Notes: This takes place on **Earth**!

Clad in a pale pink apron that read, "Girls Rock At Cooking," Jim leaned against the inn's large marble countertop and sighed.

"Cooking is _so_ boring," he muttered. He glared at the can of beans that was clutched in his hands. "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin blared dramatically from a nearby radio.

"Pour beans into a heated pot? Screw that!" he hissed after reading the printed instructions. Why wait for the pot to get hot when you could just heat the can? Made sense. Jim set the eye to Hot and placed the can of beans on top of it.

"Jim, sweetheart, how is the "chemistry" coming along?" Sarah called from the living room.

"It's still pretty gay," Jim replied, glancing at his mom's apron. Over the radio he could hear his mom make an annoyed snorting noise. The theme song of _Godzilla_, played by Led Zeppelin, continued to play. Jim closed his eyes and pretended that the monster was right in front of him. Godzilla would have been huge---its feet would practically destroy anything that was in its path. The teen could feel the beast's hot breath and…wait a minute---_hot_ breath? Jim opened his eyes and gasped. The can of beans was quivering.

"What the---" he began. With a BOOM, the can exploded, sending cascades of steaming beans high into the air. The searing hot can shot up, hit the ceiling, and landed, unfortunately, on the teen's head. A bean-covered Jim flew back onto the floor, his butt making a dull _whump_ on the hard kitchen tiles. Jim heard a faint sizzling noise. With each passing second, the noise increased. Then a scorching sensation on his head made the teen scream.

"Aw, SHOOT!" he yelped, violently shaking his head. The burned can plopped off his head. Gingerly, the teen felt the hair that fringed his forehead.

"Okay…that feels right…" he murmured, slowly moving his hand back. His heart froze when he felt a huge bald spot. With a squeal, he made a dash for the bathroom and locked the door.

"Jim? Could you _please_ turn that music down?" called Sarah. Jim ignored her and turned to stare at his reflection. Beans covered his shoulders and practically everything below. His blue eyes widened in shock when he looked at his head. It was as he had feared it---he had a large bald spot in the shape of a circle. The scorched can had incinerated the hair underneath away.

"I look like a monkey!" he whispered hoarsely.

"James Pleiades Hawkins!" called his mother sharply. The teenager winced and slowly unlocked the bathroom door.

"Could you _please_ turn down that horrible music?" Sarah requested, her tone suddenly softer now that Jim had appeared. Luckily, her son was standing far enough away that she couldn't see what had happened. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jim quickly turned off the portable radio and sagged against the cold kitchen wall. So--he was partially bald; surely he could hide it, right? Just then, the doorbell rang. There was a pause.

"Delbert! How nice to see you---hello, Petra and Erica!" gushed Sarah. Jim gritted his teeth. The Doppler girls could be funny at times, but now was _definitely_ not a good time to meet them.

"Um, hello, Sarah. Amelia and I wanted to give you these flowers as a sign of our…er…appreciation for inviting us to Thanksgiving," the scientist replied. Jim heard his mom gasp at the sight of the flowers.

"These are beautiful!" she cried.

"Where's' Jim?" Petra piped up in her slightly nasal voice.

"In the kitchen, I think…" Jim's mom answered. Hearing this, Jim turned off the bright fluorescent light and flattened himself against the back wall. The two girls pounded off towards the kitchen.

"Jeez, it's dark in here," Erica muttered. She flicked the lights back on. Both girls gasped.

Petra burst into tears. "DADDY! There's a terrorist in the kitchen!" she wailed. She tore off for the living room where Delbert was trying to have a pleasant conversation with Sarah. Erica, who had more sense, crossed her arms and leaned against the marble countertop.

"Ya know what? I bet a terrorist could cook a _pop tart _better than you!" she said tartly, a faint smirk on her face.

Warm beans trickled down Jim's neck. "I think you're right," he muttered.

After the little episode about the "terrorist" in the kitchen, things calmed down a little. A shaken, tear-stained Petra was walked down the driveway by Delbert. Sarah was patting the girl on the shoulder all the while apologizing. From his upstairs bedroom window, Jim and Erica watched the whole scene.

"Wow, Petra can _really_ be a weirdo," the girl announced, grinning.

"That's fine---we all know that, but what about my hair?" Jim snapped. He whisked off his Redskins cap to reveal the perfectly circular bald spot.

"Jeez, that'll be easy. All you need is a box of that hair growing stuff they sell at Safeway," she snorted. Jim rolled his eyes. Erica Doppler, while she could be pretty mature, still had a fourth-graders' know-it-all personality---sometimes.

"They sell that stuff?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah!"

The two stared at each other for a split second. Jim opened up his top dresser drawer and grabbed a handful of cash.

"Ha, ha---that's the _first_ place I'd look," laughed Erica, upon seeing the teen's white undies.

"Shut up!" he hissed.

Jim shakily backed his mom's white minivan down the driveway. The asphalt crunched under the tires.

"Can you really drive?" Erica asked. She wore an uneasy expression.

"See and believe," he replied, diving a hand into his pocket. He felt his wallet and was about to fish out his driver's license when the van began to drift.

"Uhh, Jim…"

"Just a sec!" he grunted. He took both hands off of the steering wheel for a split second. It was too late. There was a heavy rolling sensation. With a _scrunch_, the minivan backed onto one of Sarah's prized ceramic bunny rabbits. Unfortunately, the back tires put too much pressure on the rabbit statue's body. With a loud POP, the gray rabbit's head flew off like a cannonball on steroids. It crashed through the Benbow Inn's pretty living room window. It made a perfect hole of a silhouetted rabbit's head in the glass.

"Aw, crap! Let's get out of here!" Jim cried.

"I guess you _don't_ have a license," Erica huffed, her heart pounding. Jim just glared at her.

"If anyone asks, your mom did it," he announced.

"Jim. My mom's at a Navy conference in the Pentagon, stupid."

"Well…we'll find an excuse. But first, we'll get that hair growth stuff," the teen crowed, jamming his foot on the gas. The heavy van sped ahead, towards Safeway.

Hope this was funny---thanks to all who reviewed!! Give suggestions, too; I'll try to stretch this story on until November…lol. PLEASE review!! Thanx! ---Jackie99


	3. The Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the TP characters…Disney does!!

Notes: This takes place on **Earth**!

Lildoppler: Thanks SO MUCH for your really nice review…it made me SO happy! Seriously---you too have a huge amount of talent…your stories are AWESOME. Again, thanks for the great review!

ExcursionGuy84: My ideas do not come from any movies/TV shows…they come from my imagination. I think up situations during boring classes (which probably explains my low grades…lol). They also come from real-life situations. For example, the lab scenario was real. My lab partner and I poured down a vinegar-based substance down the wrong hole and it ended up on the floor. My science teacher freaked out, thinking that there was a serious chemical leak. Yes, we failed that! J All I can say is, if you really aren't fond of my stories, don't read them.

treasure planet-gurl: Thanks for the kind review…I'm glad that you like my silly stories! In answer to your question (about how I come up with the ideas), read the above reply.

Abby/Angie: lol, glad you enjoyed that section of the chapter! Thanks!

Little Hawk: Wow, thanks for the comments…reviews like yours keep me going!

Jsi-Spitz: I'll try harder on my stories…read the previous chapter---I think it was pretty funny myself. Thank you for reviewing, though! J 

Jim sat from across Erica at a McDonalds, sullenly swirling a hot fudge sundae with a plastic spoon. While in the middle of buying a hair revival kit at the cashier's, Sarah had called his cell phone. She wanted to know why Mr. Fluffenutter's head had flown through the window and landed in a customer's hot bowl of soup. In stricken tones, Jim's mom had demanded that her son buy most of the Thanksgiving supplies with his own money.

"What's eating you, Jim?" Erica asked brightly.

"Mom's stupid rabbit statue made me flat out broke!" he hissed. He stirred his melting ice cream harder.

"I'm sure she doesn't really mean it."

"Oh, ho, she means it all right. Mr. Fluffenutter was, like, her husband," Jim snapped.

"Maybe," Erica mused, "my parents could give some money."

Jim thought about that for a moment. Delbert was a nice guy with a _very_ deep wallet. Then, he realized that he couldn't---the doctor would spring into a seemingly endless talk about star constellations and whatnot. In his enthusiasm, he would forget to lend him some money by the time his spiel was over. His heart nearly froze when he thought about Captain Doppler. Everything about her was intimidating---her thick, English accent, her uniform, the way she clasped her hands behind her back…the list went on and on.

"_Hello_? What are you daydreaming about?" Erica called, tapping her spoon against his forehead. Impatiently, Jim swiped it away. "I was…uh…thinking about money," he replied.

"I told you: just ask my parents, like my mom."

"Uh, no. And the conversation ends here," he informed her. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Where's the turkey?" Sarah asked, sifting through dozens of shopping bags. Painfully, Jim looked over the crowded countertop.

"Uh…I _think_ I forgot to…uh…get one," he muttered. He looked at Erica for help, but all she did was shrug her little shoulders.

"Jim! How _could_ you forget about the main course?" Sarah cried. She gestured at him with the head of Mr. Fluffenutter. Its dark blue glass eyes seemed to glare at him without mercy.

"It's all HIS fault!" Jim suddenly blurted, pointing rather hysterically at the broken head.

"First of all, you can glue Mr. Fluffenutter back together. Then, go find a turkey," his mom said, crossing her arms. A customer who was ready to order caught Sarah's attention and she left.

"Let's get started," Erica murmured.

"Jeez, that is fruity," Jim whined. He had just massaged the hair revival goo onto the bald spot when Erica marched into his room with Sarah's costume wig. She had found it underneath a bathroom sink. It sported light blond curls with pink curlers.

"It said that you should protect you hair, but at the same time provide ventilation. This will work," she insisted. Jim squeezed some glue onto a fragment of porcelain and stuck it where he thought it fitted.

"Yeah, well, I think I can last with it for just today. I mean, it's supposed it work overnight," the teen sighed, referring to the hair growth stuff. He let Erica fit the wig on.

Mr. Fluffenutter was almost complete. The head was now back on the body. All that remained were a few more pieces, and---

"I can't believe you did that!" giggled the girl, gawking at the gray rabbit statue. Jim gritted his teeth and looked at Mr. Fluffenutter with fresh eyes.

"Oh, CRAP!" he shouted. In his haste to fix the detested rabbit, he made it so that the butt was on the wrong way round.

"Do you think your mom will notice?"

"Hmm…wouldn't _you_ notice it if your bottom was on the same side as your face?" he yelped. The blond wig quivered on his head.

Erica frowned at that remark. "_Duh_. Sorry. Just fix it so we can get the stupid turkey!"

Jim supported his head on one hand and eyed the mutilated sculpture. It was obvious that he could not fix it. The glue was hardening. He could break it again, but that would take a longer time.

"It's impossible. We'll just have to…uh…cover it up for the time being," he finally said.

Erica raised an eyebrow. "With what, your mom's underwear?"

With revenge in mind, Jim's blue eyes brightened. "Corny, but cool. Lead the way!"

"Ooh, what about this?" Erica asked, pulling out satiny pink underwear. They were standing in front of Sarah's dressing drawer. The top chest was pulled out, revealing many undies.

"Mr. Fluffenutter's a guy rabbit. Let's give him something neutral," the teen argued. The girl frowned. Jim was being _so_ picky!

"Just hurry up…we need to run off and buy a turkey before _my_ mom picks me up and _your _mom kills you," Erica growled. She quickly forgot her comment when she spied a frilly lace bra.

"Wow. That will go well with your wig, Madame Jimbo!"

"Shut up…here is some black underwear. Wrap it around Mr. Fluffenutter's waist and let's get out of here!" he whispered hoarsely. 

"_Please_? Just for a few seconds!" she pleaded. Jim grimaced. He remembered last summer when Erica had dressed up wearing one of his mom's bras. Luckily, his mom hadn't noticed…still, if he refused, the girl would spill the beans about Mr. Fluffenutter's ruined body.

"Fine. _Then_ will you shut your trap?" he cried. He handed Erica the statue and the underwear before jerking the white bra over his shirt. The girl had just dressed Mr. Fluffenutter up when they heard Sarah call out from downstairs.

"James Pleiades Hawkins!"

Jim panicked when he heard the call. The last thing he needed was to be in more trouble. The teen sprinted out of the room, still wearing the bra and the blonde wig with curlers.

"Oh! Jim, wait!" cried Erica, dashing after him.

Jim ignored her, but in desperation, the girl caught up with him and grabbed at his ankle. With a sickening thud, the teen flipped onto his back and flew down the marble staircase headfirst. Erica slid after him, still clutching at his ankle. Mr. Fluffenutter rocketed into the air as the two kids plummeted down the stairs. Halfway there was a break in between the two flights of stairs. Jim's head collided with the wall which made an echoing BOOM. Erica, who had more acceleration, landed on top of the teen.

"I feel like I have a hangover," moaned Jim. He twisted his head and nearly had a heart attack. Staring at him from downstairs was Amelia and Sarah.

Sorry that I took such a long time to update but I had homework…a lot of it every day. Also, if I stretch this story out, it _should_, repeat, _should_ be finished by Thanksgiving. Anyway…um…review if you want to. If you absolutely hated this chapter, don't review. I don't mind criticism, but over-the-top negative reviews will just be deleted. (Luckily, though no one has---yet…lol)


	4. Turkey Trouble

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the TP characters…Disney does!!

Notes: This takes place on **Earth**!

"Uh…hi. Welcome to the Benbow Inn," Jim stammered. He received a disbelieving stare from his mom. Amelia looked calm and collected as usual; obviously, the teen's actions didn't startle her in the slightest.

"Good afternoon, James. Nice to see you're still in the Halloween spirit," the captain said pointedly.

"Are you wearing my _underwear_?" Sarah asked, slowly.

"Haha, yeah…about that…uh, it was an accident," the teenager replied. He knew he was digging into a hole he couldn't possibly pull himself out of.

"Yes, it was.---really---Jim was only _pretending_ to be fruity," spoke up Erica. Her pale blue eyes looked sincere.

"_Erica_!" cried the teen. He twisted himself into a standing position. "Look. Guys. I was just fooling around," he added, shuddering slightly when he realized that he was still wearing the blond wig.

"For your information, James, there are plenty of websites out there just for men like you," Amelia informed him. She gave the teen a subtle wink.

"Captain, I'm not---"

"Jim. Please take off my Victoria Secret…ahem…lingerie _and_ the wig!" hissed Sarah, her blue eyes darting around the room. A lingering guest was just exiting the inn. With great dignity, Jim removed the bra and the wig.

"I was going to ask you to do a manly thing, but I guess that's beyond you," sighed Sarah melodramatically.

Jim was all ears. "What?"

"To pick up a turkey," his mom replied.

"Oh, wow, sticking my hand into a freezer's _really_ hard," the teen said sarcastically. Erica grinned up at him. Amelia rolled her eyes as if to say _the lack of discipline is making me sick_.

Sarah smiled knowingly. "If you say so, Jim. Here are the directions." She handed him a folded piece of paper. Jim grabbed it and marched out of the door. Erica loped after him like a puppy.

"Well, it looks like you'll be here a bit longer," Sarah said as brightly as she could. She and Amelia walked into the living room, where the broken window was.

_Meanwhile…_

"Yuck, this place reeks," Erica grumbled. They were pulling into a gravel driveway. Feathers were everywhere and the property smelled like…well…dirty birds. Jim was getting suspicious.

"Why the heck did my mom send me out here when I could have gotten a frozen turkey from Giant or something?" he muttered. The hair growth stuff felt cold and stiff on his scalp without the wig on.

"I don't know," the girl answered. She skipped ahead towards an old, gray looking house. A traditional looking farmer was sitting out front. He wore faded overalls and was sucking on a hay stalk.

"Birds are out back," he snorted.

"Thanks," the teen and Erica said in unison. The farmer grunted.

"Wow, which one do you want?" gasped Erica. Dozens of white turkeys milled around in a large pen. Spilled corn was all over the place.

"What the---why aren't they brown?" Jim exclaimed. He had had a mental image of a large brown turkey with the multi-colored tail. These were fat and white.

"I guess this is a certain breed of turkey."

"Whatever. They're just stupid birds. Let's take that big one over there and let's go," the teenager grumbled. Erica shrugged her thin shoulders and watched as Jim jumped over the fence. He grabbed at his desired turkey. With a loud yelping noise, the bird tried to flap its small wings. Loose feathers flew in the air.

"Here!" shouted Jim. He threw the large bird at Erica. She caught it successfully. The animal, now dazed, sat quietly in her arms.

"Hey," giggled the girl, "it's kinda cute." She stroked its snowy feathers.

"That'll be twenty bucks. Here, let me kill it for you," the farmer offered. He picked up an old rifle which had been laying at his feet.

"No!" cried Erica. She clutched at the turkey. Even Jim felt a tad put off about killing the animal.

"Uh," the teen said, "can't we take it home?"

"Sure," the farmer replied. He took the money from Jim. Quickly, the two kids walked towards the van.

"Look. Just hold it on your lap and don't let it go all over the place," Jim ordered.

"I won't. Hey, how about we call it Jimbo?"

"Heck no!" Jim protested. The bird was glaring at him. Every now and then it uttered strange yodeling noises. The teen put the key into the ignition and put the van into reverse. At the end of the driveway, he turned the minivan towards the right.

"But he looks like a Jimbo," Erica argued. She began to look stubborn.

"NO!" cried Jim.

His yell startled the turkey, which bolted underneath the teen's seat. Jim tried to break, but the bird's butt was in the way. In desperation, he swerved the van to the side of the road. With an ear-splitting crash, the vehicle broke into the turkey's pen. The windshield exploded into smithereens as a section of the fence careened into it. Turkeys stampeded into the van.

"Do you think your mom will find out about this?" Erica asked hollowly as the farmer came sprinting towards them. Jim started to curse.

Thanks to all who reviewed!! Editing note---I read the last chapter and was horrified to see that there weren't any transitions. I had put in asterisks where a new section should start, but obviously they were missing. So, starting now, I'm working on better transitions. Please review!!


	5. Thanksgiving Eve

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the TP characters…Disney does!!

Notes: This takes place on **Earth**!

Jim took a steaming hot bubble bath. Loud opera music blared from a nearby portable radio. The teen enjoyed wide ranges of music, but none calmed him down as much as opera. It would have been peaceful except for two things: his mom's van was banged up slightly in the front and the windshield was completely gone. Secondly, the farmer made him buy half of the turkeys in payment of the damaged pen. In fact, twelve pairs of beady eyes were watching him now.

"Go away!" he hissed, flicking thick wads of bubbles at the flock. The turkeys didn't budge; in fact, the movement seemed to peak their curiosity. Uttering low warbling sounds, several white turkeys advanced. They appreciatively eyed the white bathtub, the thick bar of Irish Spring soap, and the stressed out Jim.

Thankfully, the farmer had made them flightless by taking out their flight feathers. Still, they could hop. One fat turkey jumped onto the bathtub's ledge and rubbed its bluish head into Jim's face. The teen screamed.

"Honey? Is the water too hot?" Sarah called. Her voice sounded muffled through the locked door.

"Uh…it's cool," Jim replied. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the turkey off of its perch. It shrieked in surprise and landed among the rest of the flock. Meanwhile, "Figaro" played loudly in the background.

"Are you sure its alright? You're _still_ not upset that Kerry lost to Bush?"

"MOM! Can't I take a bath in peace?!" cried the teenager.

"Alright, alright. Erica called to say thank you for dropping her off," Sarah said. Jim grunted. He hoped that the Doppler girl wouldn't say a word about the previous incident. All he needed was time to "fix" the windshield and a place to dump off the birds. Sarah walked away, her heeled shoes making dull thumps on the carpet.

"Okay, Jim. Think," he muttered. He could either come clean about everything, risk being grounded for life, or make a fake, temporary windshield. Jim decided on the latter. He just needed to think of a way to make glass. After brainstorming for a while, the teenager sat up.

"That's it!" he yelped. Jim jumped out of the bathtub. The turkeys started to garble their heads off at the new sight.

"Shut up," he ordered. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around himself and let the water drain out of the tub. The mission was on. Now, all he needed was luck.

_A little while later…_

Armed with Saran wrap, duct tape, and a pail of Shellac, Jim marched into the garage. His mom was outside blowing up an jumbo sized turkey decoration. The turkeys were upstairs in his room gobbling up hastily made micro waved popcorn. Other than that, he was alone---with the dented van in front of him. The fence section had dinged up the front and, obviously, completely ruined the windshield. Jim set his supplies down and grabbed a powerful vacuum cleaner. It was designed to suck up stubborn material and water---things an ordinary vacuum cleaner would have heart failure trying to do.

He plugged the machine in, placed it on the hood of the van, and turned it on full max. It made a loud _whoosh_. The metal on the hood made muted popping noises. The dents were being mended, thankfully. Grinning, Jim turned the vacuum cleaner off and inspected the van. It looked much better. The only thing left was the windshield. Kneeling on the van's hood, Jim unrolled the Saran wrap. He cursed when it snarled up on itself and became one big plastic lump. Tossing it aside, he tried again. This time, it came out properly. Using thin strips on duct tape, he stuck the stuff on. Jim repeated the tactic until the gaping hole where the windshield should have been was covered with Saran wrap.

Next was the Shellac. It was a smelly liquid that, when applied to anything, made a protective shield. It was a brownish substance, but became clear when dry. Jim applied layers of the goo. Satisfied, the teen put the supplies away. He whistled as he climbed up the garage stairs and walked into the den area. Sarah was sitting in front of the TV watching "Barney." After the divorce, Sarah's therapist recommended that she watch the beloved kids' show. Jim was still dubious about the advice.

"Ma, that show is, like, weird," he protested.

"Shhh…this is the part where Barney helps the kid dig up his father," his mom whispered. On the TV, Jim saw the fat purple dinosaur standing beside a tombstone. A cheerful, blond haired boy eagerly grabbed two spades. Handing one over to Barney, the two started to dig.

"Oh, boy! This will be fun!" Barney announced.

"Jeez, this show's _really_ gone downhill," Jim muttered. He grabbed a remote and changed channels.

"James Pleiades Hawkins! I wanted to see how it ended!" Sarah protested.

"Look. I'm sure they'll play it again," he soothed. Flicking past "Spongebob Square Pants," and the History Channel, he landed on a news station. An announcer was droning on about the weather.

"Jim. Did you finish the pumpkin pie? Thanksgiving is tomorrow," Sarah reminded him.

"How could I forget?" Jim replied, sarcastically.

"Tonight and tomorrow I'll cook, but I'm expecting you to do some work," his mom warned him.

"Sure, I know."

"And today, the president of the United States pardons a turkey," a handsome news anchor man declared. The screen switched to show Bush stroking a snow white turkey. It was identical to the flock upstairs.

"Oh, no, don't worry---this turkey'll go to a petting zoo," Bush said, to a crowd of reporters. Jim screamed and fled from the room.

"I wonder what his problem is?" Sarah mused.

Hehehe, hope you guys like this one. The updates should be coming faster now that Thanksgiving is practically here. So---please review, give suggestions (I don't care how silly/stupid they are, just turn some in! The cornier the better, right?) I'll try to post replies next time, too. Well, have an awesome Thanksgiving vacation!!


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